


The Eighteenth Apocalypse

by or_else



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theater, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/or_else/pseuds/or_else
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len McCoy hated a lot of things. Among them were cars, Mondays, artichokes, and best-friends-who-also-happen-to-be-your-boss named Jim Kirk. </p><p>Beanie wearing hipsters with bad hair cuts and even worse attitudes were the very first thing on the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scyborg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scyborg/gifts).



> This is for Grace and Alex, who did a roleplay during the summer that I said I was going to write about 5 months ago. Oops.
> 
> There are a lot of stereotypes in this fic, but I mean no offence! I personally hate stereotypes. 
> 
> The rating is mostly for the language.
> 
> All mistakes are my own and I don't own Star Trek or any of the characters.

Leonard H. McCoy, Len to most, Lenny to his mother, and Bones to one obnoxious manager, hated Mondays, artichokes, dirty socks, and the fact that his favorite coffee shop had been closed and replaced with Starbucks two and a half years ago. 

This was an incomplete list, of course.

However, it would take several weeks to complete it and most of the things that would be on it would be irrelevant anyways.

Three of the previously mentioned four were relevant as Len hadn't had time to do laundry Sunday, which was yesterday, because his job as a stage tec had overflowed without his permission. The result of this being that today was a Monday and he had no clean socks. Or much else, for that matter. On top of this, he was running late and the hipster kids at Starbucks were staring at his tattoos and gauges. Not like he hated this place already or anything.

 

Needless to say, it was not a good day.

 

Having successfully navigated the stares and whispers and scaring the barista into actually _doing her job_ instead of staring at the tattoos that poked over his shirt collar, Len walked out the door. Or tried to. At the same time he was talking out of the door, someone else was trying to walk in through it and that worked about as well as you imagine it would. In any case, it ended with his coffee down the front of the guy’s shirt instead of in his cup like it was supposed to be.

Len hated his life.

After apologizing to the guy and helping him clean up (basically just shoving napkins at him- there was no way was he going to paw at the kid’s stomach under the pretence of cleaning up the coffee, no matter how hot he was under a truly awful hair cut. Thank god it was mostly hidden under a beanie. And at least he wasn’t outright staring at his eyebrow piercing) Len left the coffee shop uncaffeinated and noticeably grumpier. It couldn’t get any worse.

Of course, Jim chose that moment to text him to ask for coffee. He really hated his boss sometimes.

 

He finally makes it to work twenty minutes later, armed with two cups of coffee from an equally repulsive Starbucks (his coffee stayed in the cup this time) and a scowl. While he hated being asked to do things that were unrelated to his job by his boss, he wasn’t interested being unemployed and he had seen Jim when he hadn’t had enough caffeine. The rest of the stage crew wisely kept their distance.  Jim, theater enthusiast and complete idiot, had no concept of personal space and had an arm slung over Len’s shoulder and an onslaught of words as soon as he walked into the door.

“Jim.” He just barely stopped the overenthusiastic report on the props progress with a glare. “What do you want?”

“I want you to play nice with the new dancers. Don’t scare them too bad, alright? They’re coming tomorrow. Also for the lights, I was thinking…”

Len sighed. Hyper productive Jim was scary even on a good day, and today defiantly wasn’t.

 

It was going to be a long day. 


	2. beanie boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be the guy that he had spilled coffee on that would be the next male lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Grace's birthday so I'm posting this a bit early that I originally was. Thanks to everyone for reading! I'm still working on making the chapters longer and I'm super bad at updating. Sorry.

Len blinked at the guy in front of him wondered when this became his life. Actually, he knew. He could stick a push pin on the exact day. Maybe even the time.

_[It was his second tattoo and Jim’s first. Jim was way drunker than he was at the time, and Scotty was always at some degree of drunkness. Jim had been trying to convince Len this was a good idea all night and he had finally agreed just to shut him up. Besides, the little triangle insignia had a certain appeal._

_Jim had dreamed it up for his imaginary stage crew company he was going to open. “The dream team, Bones!” he had excitedly talked about at any given moment. Len couldn't deny the idea appealed to him, even if he never outright said that. Wasn't like it would ever actually happen, but the kid could dream._

_A year and a half later found Jim with the start of a business and a partnership with the new theater that had just opened (that one donater that had a soft spot for Jim probably had something to do with it) and had dragged Len and Scotty along with him. Scotty was happy enough to play with the sound system and Len was stuck with the spot light for the first couple of months until everyone realized that sticking Len up in the cat walks was never a good idea in the first place. Heights had never really been his thing, even if behind the spotlight was the best seats in the house._

_Even Len had to admit, it was pretty amazing that the washed up kid everyone thought was going nowhere had managed to do this._

_That wasn’t going to stop him from complaining loudly about anything and everything.]_

 

Floating (more like falling and slamming painfully into concrete) back to the present, Len realized he had zoned out while staring at the guy. The man (kid? he didn't look that old) blinked and looked back. It was the same man he had spilled coffee on yesterday in front of that horrible coffee shop. 

Fuck.

Spock (and seriously, what kind of parent would inflict their child with that name?) was just as cute as he was yesterday when his shirt was covered in Len’s coffee. He doesn’t tell him that.

The word  _cute_  feels wrong in his mouth. Like the feeling in the back of your throat when a crumb gets stuck and you can’t quite swallow it.

It was a bit of a problem anyways, because Spock, with his blue beanie, hipster-but-probably-unnecessary glasses and part as the lead dancer in the newest ballet, was not someone Len should be thing about in any way that was not professional. Which sucked because Spock’s long legs in skinny jeans the color of the (probably fake) bricks in front of the Starbucks the unfortunate coffee incident took place and the thought of them in tights ( _tights_ , honestly, who thought that was a good idea?) was really damn distracting.

And because the curve of his bicep under his shirt looked like the drawings of the anatomy books stashed beneath his bed, Len put up his usual appearance. It wasn’t that hard. After all, he hadn’t earned the reputation of grumpiest light operator for nothing. He was sure the multiple piercings and tattoos only improved the usual frowning exterior. 

His thoughts were running away from him again. He hauled them back by the scruff of their neck and let himself be introduced to Spock’s partner. A women with lovely dark skin who was currently glaring at Jim. It was likely he had tried to hit on her. Not a smart move, by the looks of it. 

Len liked her already.

The other dancers were as remarkable as always and Len frowned at all of them. Jim sent him a look that clearly said  _too cool to look friendly?_  and he slumped a little and pretended he wasn’t watching Spock.

When the introductions were finally done, Len shoved his hands into his pocket and shuffled off to finish the program for the lights. It was nearly done and would have been hours ago if people had just left him alone like they were meant to. Seriously, could no one read the hand written sign on his door that clearly said  _Do not enter unless dire emergency. Actual work in progress._ It didn’t deter anyone, but that didn't stop Len from glaring at anyone and everyone who bothered him when he was in the middle of something. It hadn't worked on Jim today and his boss had insisted that he was present when the newbies arrived for their first rehearsal. If you asked Len, he didn't think it mattered that the dancers knew who the stage crew was as long as they stayed out of the way. No one asked him, but he made his opinion known anyways. 

Len heaved a sigh. At least he could watch Spock from the light booth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I know there isn't much interation between Spock and Leoanrd and it wasnt very long but there will be more in the next and it will be longer. Promise.


End file.
